


happy can't be the only chauffeur in peter's life

by chinny7712



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, has been in a file on my computer for 5 months, random unnecessary fluff, where shall i go with this? please give me feedback
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinny7712/pseuds/chinny7712
Summary: The beginning of Peter’s ongoing tussle with the woes of public transportation commenced two months before the end of his sophomore year, when he realized that a public masturbator on the subway wouldn’t simply halt his depraved act just because a teenaged boy with a hero complex asked him nicely.One black eye and about fifty lectures from May later, it was decided that Peter wasn’t allowed to take the subway alone anymore.I mean, thank god he just happened to have a friend who was in possession of a 1998 Subaru Forester and lived three blocks away, right?Right?





	1. Chapter 1

There’s a lime green sticky note on the edge of her desk.

_we need 2 talk!!!!!_

Yikes.

At approximately 2:48 every afternoon, Michelle’s heart began to ache in yearning for the final bell to ring.

Seventh period pre-calculus with Mr. Habel had always been a nightmare. 

The nightmare wasn’t the curriculum itself, which was fairly straightforward. 

Nor was it the teacher, who was a soft-spoken man who didn’t really have much in the way of a personality, but sometimes offered Michelle gratuitous extra credit opportunities and would always pick her to go down to the office and make copies for him.

The nightmare wasn’t even Flash Thompson, who was a TA for the main office sixth period, and would periodically walk into the classroom to hand Mr. Habel a slip of paper and flash Michelle a stupid face with his fingers against his forehead in the shape of an “L”. As if it were _2002_. Michelle was never afraid to hit him back with a carefree “I”. Using her middle digit.

All of that was fine. Routine. Comfortable. 

The real nightmare was Ned Leeds, sitting behind her, kicking her chair, and attempting to pass her notes that she was never inclined to respond to the **whole hour** _._

One time, he had poked the back of her left elbow exactly twenty-four times with his pencil to get her to turn around, only to show her a picture of a whale wearing a top-hat that he drew on the backside of his notebook.

Much to MJ’s chagrin, she had to admit that it was fairly inspired.

At 2:48 on some typical Friday afternoon, she felt a _thump_ at the back of her seat. Not in the  mood to receive another random, unnecessary post-it note from Ned, she chose to ignore it.

A few minutes passed, and as she was in the middle of constructing a pristine unit circle, she felt another _thump_. Followed by another. Followed by what could be dozens of successive _thump-thump-thump-thump-thump_ s that led her to imagine that there must be someone peddling a paddle boat in the desk behind her. 

_“Michelle!”_ came an impatient voice from behind her. _“Pssst!”_

She whipped around to face Ned with the deepest scowl she had ever felt herself don, gripping her compass hard enough in her fist to turn her knuckles white. At a nearly dead whisper, she muttered, “Leeds, I swear. If you don’t stop kicking my chair, I will lodge this compass so deep in your eye socket your brain will have graphite marks,” she looked down to his desk, “and your fifth degree is wrong.” 

Ned stared at her, mouth gaping wide enough for her to punt a soccer ball into. His eyes darted back and forth between the pencil in her hand and the unit circle on his desk. He whispered a stunned apology and frantically began erasing his work.

Content to go back to finishing her masterpiece, she turned back around and quickly glanced up to the front of the classroom, where Mr. Habel was standing, eyeing her. He definitely heard every word she just said.

_Whatever,_ she thought. _He can get used to it._

Ned didn’t bother her for the rest of class, but the second the bell rang, before Michelle could gather her things and hightail it out of the room in her usual fashion, he tapped her shoulder, only once - but insistently, like he was ringing a doorbell, forcing her to turn around and face him again.

“Sorry about the kicking thing. I’ll stop doing that.” he said sheepishly as he withdrew his obnoxious finger from her shoulder.

“Yeah, good, you should.” she snapped back.

“I said I would.”

“You should.”

“I’m going to!”

“Good,” she took a moment to look at him, “okay, what?”

“Uh… w-what do you mean, _‘What?’_ ” Ned stuttered.

“I _mean,”_ Michelle drew out the ‘e’ and paused to look at him pointedly as if it was obvious. “What do you want?”

“Yeah. Obviously, duh. Silly me!”, Ned babbled on. Michelle’s stare on him sharpened even more. He took a deep breath. “Peter, he… uh…. f-forgot something in your car the other day and he couldn’t tell you himself so I’m doing it for him.” And flashed her a brief, awkward smile.

Michelle furrowed her brows and stared at him with an air of exasperation. “Oh my god, you mean the stupid gloves? I’ve got them right here.” She dug around in her backpack for a moment and yanked out a pair of red, stretchy gloves, which she then proceeded to dangle in front of Ned’s face. Any remotely attentive person would notice that the gloves were strikingly similar to those of a certain famed Queen’s superhero, but Michelle wasn’t observant or anything like that anyways. 

Luckily for Ned, the classroom had completely cleared by that point, meaning that nobody but Ned (and Peter, who was watching from behind the door) noticed Michelle practically make an exhibit of the gloves before Ned grabbed them from her hands and struggled to fit them into the front pocket of his pants. 

By the time Ned finished that task, Michelle had already packed up her things and started heading for the door. Ned briefly considered attempting some sort of lie about the origin of the gloves, 

“I _t’s a Halloween costume!”_

_“Peter stole it from Stark Industries!”_

_“No,_ **_I’m_ ** _Spider-Man!”_

but before he could muster anything, Michelle spoke, hand on the doorframe, with the bottom half of her face concealed by some massive book. “See you later, Ned. Remember what I said about the compass.” Then, as she left the room, she didn’t even look around the corner to where Peter was hiding as she remarked, “Bye, Parker.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no semblance of a plot so far someone fix me pls
> 
> i canno t w r i t e y :(

The beginning of Peter’s ongoing tussle with the woes of public transportation commenced two months before the end of his sophomore year, when he realized that a public masturbator on the subway wouldn’t simply halt his depraved act just because a teenaged boy with a hero complex asked him nicely.

One black eye and about fifty lectures from May later, it was decided that Peter wasn’t allowed to take the subway alone anymore.

Telling Ned about the development the following morning at school was an ordeal, to say the least.

“Peter, I really don’t get the problem. Why take the subway when you can just _Spider-Man_ everywhere?” Ned proclaimed as Peter woefully attempted to shove the last of his textbooks into his locker. 

“Yes, Ned, please speak louder, I beg of you, I don’t think Cindy Moon _quite_ heard you from down the hall!” Peter frantically whispered. “I can’t web-sling _everywhere,_ unless you want May to assume I teleport to school every morning! For now, I’m hoofin’ it.”

“Fine,” Ned replied, “But I really don’t understand why you complain to me about these things if you clearly don’t want me to provide you with a solution.”

“Ned, it’s fine.” Peter muttered, slamming his locker shut and beginning to make his way down the hallway to his first period.

“No, I’m just saying, as your honorary guy-in-the-chair, my advice should be taken into account more often than it currently is. I’m on your side!” Ned rambled on as he trailed lopsidedly behind Peter. A girl with a purple bob glares at him. He’s disrupting the flow of traffic.

“Ned, you’re the only guy-in-the-chair… probably in the universe,” Peter remarked with a hint of a smile on his face. “You don’t need to tack on ‘honorary’ to the end of it.”

Ned practically catapulted himself off the ground with a triumphant laugh. “Yes! So you admit I’m your guy-in-the-chair!”

Peter rounded the corner into their shared first period History class and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. You’re more fun to talk to than Karen, anyways.”

“Who’s Karen?”

Peter and Ned both halted just before the threshold to the classroom, as Michelle, who sat in the second seat in the aisle nearest the door, picked up on their conversation. 

Peter, luckily, was prepared. 

“SHE’S MY AUNT!” He loudly proclaimed, catching the attention of the substitute teacher behind them, a sinewy white guy with an unfortunate undercut. The sub motioned for Peter to lower his voice by putting his finger in front of his mouth. Ned winced.

Peter nodded and returned his attention to Michelle, whose massive bangs did not conceal the sharp look of disapproval coming from her squinting eyes.

“Peter, I’ve met your aunt. I know her name is May.”

Peter dimly noted that Ned had already migrated to the back of the room to claim the last seat next to Betty Brant, leaving Peter to awkwardly claim the seat in front of Michelle and defend himself.

“Yeah, not _that_ aunt. My great aunt. On-on my mom’s side.” Peter supplied as he parked himself in his seat and gathered his backpack in his lap, tightly against his chest, almost like a shield. He looked back up at her.

MJ gave him one last scathing glance before she lowered her gaze to her desk, where she was reading a book with text that was impossibly small.

Class commenced. MJ never looked up from her book.

Near the end of the period, the substitute announced that they needed to pick partners for a project on the Russian revolution. The noise level in the room quickly rose as people scrambled for their partners, and Peter quickly glanced to the back of the room at Ned, who had already scooted his desk closer to Betty’s, flashing him a triumphant wink. Peter inwardly groaned and looked back at MJ, preparing himself for the embarrassment of asking her to be his partner.

At that point, she had directed her famous squinting gaze in the general direction of Winston Adam, an unassuming Junior who sat the row to the left of them, completely unperturbed by Peter’s eyes on her. 

“Hey, MJ... what are you doing?” Peter whispered apprehensively, twisting his body around and resting his left arm on her desk. 

She didn’t look at him, still inspecting what seemed to be the back of Winston’s head. “I’m just trying to tell if that’s a _Make America Great Again_ hat.” She whispered back.

Peter leaned over his own desk and squinted. “I don’t — it says… ‘Lifeguard’, I think.”

Michelle nodded in response, not making eye contact, averting her attention back to the book on her desk. “Great, thanks.”

A beat. Peter had yet to look away.

She huffed her hair out of her eyes, and, looking at him, snapped, “Okay, fine!”

Peter drew back his arm from her desk. “Um… _fine_ , what?”

“Fine, I’ll be your partner. Meet me in the library after school.” And then she stood up, grabbed her bag in her right hand, the massive book with tiny text in the left, and marched out of the classroom, even though there were four minutes left of class.

The substitute didn’t notice. He was obsessively rubbing the back of his neck and that unfortunate undercut.

**Author's Note:**

> I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THIS
> 
> I wrote this maaany months ago and I have just been slowly editing this one scene over and over again. If anyone has any advice or wants to collab with me on this I would love to hear from you!
> 
> zendaymj on tumblr


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